Gravedigger of the Empire

Drinking is out of the question; Kahn dares not drink recklessly again.

Smoking was one of Kahn's ways of relieving stress, but drinking alcohol would cause problems.

He was under immense pressure and dared not let his guard down for even a moment, so it was impossible for him to drink.

Moreover, he has too many things to do and simply doesn't have time to go to bars or brothels.

He took his brand-new ID to the archives and pulled out some documents to familiarize himself with his job.

The officer in charge of managing the files didn't ask any questions, glanced at his identification, and then handed him the documents.

After all, this information is not confidential; it is nothing more than a list of missing persons and signatures on records of the entry and exit of supplies.

Kahn pretended to sit in his office until dinner time, then went to the cafeteria for a quick bite.

It has to be said that bread in military camps can indeed be used to kill people, or as bulletproof inserts stuffed into tactical vests to save one's life.

No wonder German soldiers often joked that the bread they were given could be used to pry open doors and lock ammunition boxes.

Kahn barely managed to finish his dinner, slurping down the bland vegetable soup, and then he secretly vowed never to patronize that damned cafeteria again.

Back in his office, Kahn took several gold bars from his drawer and left the Military Administration building with them.

The guards at the door ignored Kahn, only glancing at him, because Kahn wasn't wearing a military uniform to avoid attracting attention.

"Please have mercy! I have nothing left!" An old man in an old military uniform sat under a street lamp next to the gate and pleaded in a trembling voice when he saw Kahn.

Now you can see beggars like this everywhere; they were laid off from the army and have no hope left.

The compensation the military gave to these veterans was soon only enough for them to buy a few potatoes, so you could often see beggars like this on the streets of Berlin.

In reality, veterans who could beg in Berlin were considered lucky; most demobilized conscripts could only eke out a living in smaller cities.

The beggar in front of me must have been fifty years old, but he looked much older. His face was covered in wrinkles and stubble, and his filthy military uniform was almost completely torn.

To be honest, compared to those who have lost limbs, he is not pitiful enough.

But Kahn silently took out a banknote and put it into the other man's hat. He didn't know why he took out the money; perhaps it was just because that banknote couldn't buy anything right now.

A...laughable and pathetic era.

"Thank you, thank you! Sir, may God bless you!" The old man was slightly taken aback when he saw the banknotes Kahn had thrown into his hat; he hadn't expected anyone to pity him.

In the rush, he only caught a glimpse of Kahn's back, his eyes filled with gratitude.

Kahn ignored the beggar behind him and walked along the slightly uneven cobblestone path toward where he wanted to go.

The sky darkened slightly, and one by one, the neon lights overhead lit up.

As the city shone brightly, another side of Berlin gradually unfolded before Kahn.

A sleek luxury car drove past him, its reflection shimmering in the hotel sign.

Even through the revolving doors, you can hear the laughter and cheerful voices from those magnificent buildings, as well as the music and songs that seem to never stop.

That was a world that Kahn could not yet reach.

He stopped and glanced at the hotel doorman. His hand unconsciously began to rub the gold bars in his pocket.

Cold... hard... smooth...

They are the stepping stones to the world beyond the door, the keys to enter that world.

The waiter in red on the steps noticed Kahn and looked down at him with a cold gaze.

Clearly, he didn't think that an ordinary man like Kahn, dressed in an old suit, would walk towards the revolving door behind him in the next second.

Kahn noticed someone looking at him, but their eyes met only for a moment before he turned back and continued on his way.

He reassured himself: Don't rush! Don't rush...

He passed through bustling areas and gloomy places, and soon arrived at an inconspicuous little shop, pushed open the door and went inside.

Two bearded men were talking across the counter when they saw Kahn come in and stopped.

Kahn casually picked up an apple from the pile and weighed it in his hand: "Mr. Ron said this place can help me with some problems."

The burly, bearded man frowned but didn't say anything.

The shopkeeper behind the counter nodded. Anyone who could name Mr. Ron must be someone in their circle.

But... better safe than sorry.

"The roses under the glass chapel." The other person said a coded message out of the blue.

Kahn smiled slightly and said, "Aunt Matdy released a butterfly."

Upon hearing this, the wary, burly man finally relaxed, and his body became less tense.

The shop owner smiled and asked warmly, "How can I help you, esteemed guest?"

"I want a large sum of pounds," Kahn stated directly.

The shop owner wasn't surprised; his place was an underground money exchange. If you had connections, you could exchange foreign currency here that banks wouldn't give you.

"That depends on what you have." The shopkeeper didn't refuse, leaning against the counter and sizing up Kahn.

Kahn took a gold bar out of his pocket, placed it on the counter, and pushed it to the other person.

Upon seeing this, the eyes of the two bearded men lit up involuntarily.

In this era, or in any era, gold has always been a hard currency.

"Wait a moment." The boss took the gold bar, examined it carefully, then left Kahn behind and went through a door at the back.

The burly man with the thick beard stared at Kahn, who raised the apple in his other hand and gestured to the man.

The man gestured for him to proceed, and of course he wouldn't mind giving Kahn an apple.

Kahn took a bite, and the sweet and slightly sour juice rushed down his throat, stimulating his taste buds.

After a while, the shop owner, who had gone inside, returned and put the broken gold bar back on the counter.

"This one, sixty-five pounds." The swindler's face makes you want to slap him.

"Seventy-five." Kahn cursed inwardly. No wonder these guys were unlucky a decade or so later. They were really damn unlucky.

The normal price of gold is about $650 per kilogram, which is more than £200, but the other party only offered $130, which is utterly shameless.

The other party thought for a moment and then nodded, then asked, "How many do you plan to sell?"

"Four bars." Kahn took the remaining three gold bars out of his pocket, placed them on the counter, and pushed them towards the other person.

He knew who the other person was, and wouldn't resort to murder and robbery without knowing their background.

After all, with the connection to "Mr. Ron," it's unlikely the other party would act easily.

The main reason is that in his previous life, Kahn exchanged some gold here without any problems.

The other party simply offered a low price; nothing unpleasant happened.

"Wait here." The boss picked up the broken gold bar and the three intact ones, gave them an instruction, and then went back to the room.

The burly man stared at Kahn, as if trying to memorize his face.

Kahn ignored them because these people still had a basic bottom line. How could an underground bank possibly succeed if it was always double-crossing each other?

He quickly ate the remaining small portion of the apple in his hand and threw the apple core into the trash can next to him.

Then he pulled out a crumpled half-pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and seeing the other person's wary look, he smiled and gestured for the other person to take one.

The burly man waved his hand, declining his offer.

"Mind it?" Kahn tilted his head slightly.

"Do as you please." The burly man did not stop Kahn from lighting that cheap cigarette there.